


Deportment Classes

by jynx



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Character Study, Family Dynamics, Gen, Teacher-Student Relationship, contrary half-feral teenager
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 05:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17913110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynx/pseuds/jynx
Summary: Obi-Wan is fifteen and trying to figure out why the servant girl tried to kiss him just because he thanked her. His Master is definitely not helping.





	Deportment Classes

**Author's Note:**

> Deportment classes, for those who don't know, are classes on behavior, etiquette, manners, etc. Typically this would include how to throw a dinner party, how to speak to specific people of a specific class, how to eat at a fancy restaurant, dance lessons, etc. Deportment is extremely classist, for us. It's also extremely boring. Uhm, think of finishing schools and things along those lines.

Obi-Wan slouched at the breakfast table, twirling an empty fork, glaring viciously at the fruit in front of him. His cup of tea was empty and he was disinclined to fill it, even if he really wanted more tea. 

He was sulking as only a teenager could, after all. 

"Oh, for the love of the Force," Qui-Gon muttered as he entered the sitting area. He had yet to dress for the day and was still in sleep clothes and an old robe thrown over them. "What's wrong with you this time?" 

"I was being _nice_ ," Obi-Wan said, finally using his fork to stab a piece of fruit and shoved it in his mouth. "I used my manners." He maybe was a little exaggerated in his manners because he had been half-awake and seen it as an opportunity to practice, but he still didn't understand. 

"You're chewing with your mouth open," Qui-Gon said as he settled into his seat. "Those are not manners." Obi-Wan glared and sat up straight in his chair, like Qui-Gon had taught him, and chewed his food with his mouth closed, like Qui-Gon had taught him. "Better. You may escape another round of deportment classes yet." 

If Qui-Gon signed him up for remedial deportment--for the third time--he would find some way, some very vicious way, to make the older man regret it. His behavior was fine, his manners were perfect...when he was dealing with other people. He was fifteen, he didn't have to be perfect all the time. Qui-Gon was using those classes as a threat to demand unnecessary perfection and one of these days Obi-Wan was going to find the perfect counter to such threats. Maybe he'd memorize the code and nag his Master any time he committed the smallest violation. 

"Continue," Qui-Gon said with a wave of his hand as he picked up his tea. "You were being nice?" 

"I thanked the servant for bringing us breakfast," Obi-Wan said. "She set it up, which she didn't have to do but she didn't listen to me, so I thanked her. And then she got all flustered and tried to kiss me." 

Qui-Gon promptly choked on his tea and Obi-Wan angrily stabbed another piece of fruit. He hadn't done anything wrong! He had said thank you, had smiled and bowed, but then the ridiculous thing had thrown herself at him. He'd panicked and fled, because what else was he supposed to do? He'd played kissing games with his friends, sure, but that was his friends and not some, some. 

He'd just said _thank you_! 

"Padawan," Qui-Gon said once he had composed himself. "How _exactly_ did you thank her? Word for word, if you would." 

Obi-Wan blinked at Qui-Gon, fruit half-way to his mouth. "Thank you, my dear, that was wholly unnecessary of you but I appreciate it all the same. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day?" Qui-Gon's lips twitched and Obi-Wan threw his fork, fruit and all, at his Master. "Oy, what did I do wrong?!" 

"I suppose I really will have to sign you up for another deportment class," Qui-Gon chuckled, picking the melon out of his hair. He clearly ignored Obi-Wan's overexaggerated wail and calmly returned his fork to him. "She was so flustered, child, because you noticed her and thanked her. She's a servant. No one of the ruling class ever bothers to notice a servant. It is beneath them to do such a thing." 

"Well that's stupid," Obi-Wan muttered, taking his fork and stabbing another piece of fruit with it. He shoved it in his mouth angrily. "They're people too." 

"Yes, but they are either paid to be invisible or they are enslaved, and it is their job to be invisible," Qui-Gon said. "You are kind, Padawan, perhaps too kind. And you are not awful looking." 

Obi-Wan, in the middle of picking up a muffin, threw it at Qui-Gon instead. "I am awful looking!" He paused. Wait. What? 

Qui-Gon caught the muffin and calmly took a bite. "Would you like to revise that statement?" 

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why are you making comments on how I look? What's your angle?" he asked. 

"That is the first smart thing you've said all morning," Qui-Gon said. He set the muffin down on his plate and poured himself some tea. "You are an attractive teenager, Obi-Wan." 

Obi-Wan sat back in his chair, suspicious, eyes narrowed. "Thank you?" 

"You will grow up to be a very attractive man," Qui-Gon continued. "You should use it to your advantage. On the battlefield, it will throw your enemies if you are flirtatious with them or treat them with more respect than the situation deserves. A momentary pause can leave you an opening that you can exploit easily." 

Obi-Wan slouched in his seat. Of course. Everything had an angle. 

"Sit up," Qui-Gon's voice snapped out sharply. "Shoulders back, chin up. Try to have proper posture, child, and not look like such a slob. You want your efforts to work, to have this be a weapon you can use on the unsuspecting? You must make it look _real_." 

Obi-Wan fumed silently as he pushed himself into a proper sitting position, remembering to keep his elbows close to his body, pinky angled just right, as he reached for his tea. The only one he'd like to skewer right now was his Master. 

"It will take effort to learn how to throw the unsuspecting, of course," Qui-Gon said, going back to the muffin Obi-Wan had thrown at him. "Maybe, if you ever finally master the basics, we can advance you to other deportment and etiquette classes." 

Obi-Wan kept his face blank while he seethed inside. "Of course, darling," he said, keeping his voice calm and genial. "Was there anything else you required or may I be excused? It's been such a... _trying_ morning that I'd like to see to my morning meditations. I'm sure you understand?" Smile, smile, _smile_. 

Qui-Gon stared at him, the piece of muffin falling to bits in his hand. 

Obi-Wan got to his feet and stalked out of the room. If there was one class he loathed, it was blasted deportment. It would be a warm day on Hoth if he ever set foot in another deportment class. 

His shoulders twitched up near his ears as he heard Qui-Gon's booming laughter behind him. Well, blast. That didn't last nearly as long as he had hoped it might. 


End file.
